


and i wanna lay with you 'til i'm old

by raggirare



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggirare/pseuds/raggirare
Summary: Because even those who have fallen the furthest can still be human.





	

**Author's Note:**

> McGenji Week Day Three: Domestic

Annual leave never really works out for the Blackwatch team the same it does for the Overwatch agents. It’s not a guaranteed break for specific amounts of time. It’s standby time in its rawest form, on call no matter where in the world you end up, and it’s not so much making yourself unavailable as it is putting your name at the bottom of a short list. It works only because the Blackwatch team is small and their preferences vary and they’ve learned to work around each other. Some prefer their leave in small chunks before their bigger, scheduled jobs, preventing the risk of smaller jobs interfering. Others prefer to use theirs en masse, taking weeks or even months at a time for whatever reasons they have.

Jesse is the sort to take his right after a major mission, bypassing home altogether and heading straight for holiday. He always drags Genji along for the ride.

There are few places they can go, with Jesse’s face plastered on wanted posters and Genji’s a magnet for attention, but they always find solace somewhere. Inexpensive resorts in the Caribbean or the Pacific, where the weather is warm and their schedules are dictated by their own urges and people are less concerned about who someone is than they are about the money they bring.

They peel every layer of Genji’s armour away, polishing away blood until the metal shines pristine, and he slips into clothing, loose and comfortable. They laze wherever they can find: the bed, the sofa, the floor, the deckchair on the balcony connected to the bedroom. Jesse shaves away the stubble that accumulated on the mission and they always end up in the shower together, not because Genji needs it but because Jesse can never quite find a peace like the one that emanates from his boyfriend’s fingers massaging his scalp as he washes his hair.

They sleep in every morning, tangled in thin sheets and bare limbs, and they lie in long after they’ve woken, dozing and cuddling and listening to the gentle lull of the waves of the nearby beaches. Genji forgoes his visor, and even peels away the framing of his helmet as much as he can, and Jesse litters butterfly kisses over every part of the cyborg’s face he can reach, leaving no scar untouched and no spot on his metal lower jaw unmarked.

They get ready together and it always takes longer than it should. Hands wander and tickle where they can, remembering every part of each other as if they haven’t already. Jesse pieces Genji’s helmet back together and Genji keeps the buttons open on Jesse’s button-down short sleeve so he can trace smooth fingerpads over the older man’s chest, toying with the fine hairs hinting at a forest to come in future years.

They wander the streets and poke their heads into every souvenir store they find. They try on ridiculous hats and hideous shirts and make sure to buy something for Gabriel. They buy groceries together, ending up in endless debates about what the best kind of meal is, and experiment with was to make Genji’s specialised protein shakes a little less unbearable.

They take long walks on the beach at sunset, as barefooted as they can both be and their fingers tangled together. Sometimes they play, kicking water and splashing each other. Sometimes they’re calmer, simply standing ankle deep, Jesse’s chest against Genji’s back as they look out over the horizon into the endless expanse of the sea.

Jesse cooks his own dinners, usually, and Genji sits on the counter to watch. Sometimes they swap and Genji produces simple dishes that remind him of home, offering a patient Jesse tastes in a teaspoon to keep him from stealing all the ingredients raw.

They wash their laundry in a sink and fold it when it’s dry. They lounge on the sofa, cuddling or using one another as a pillow, and pass the time with the television on in the background and datapads in hand. Sometimes they read, sometimes they scan the news, sometimes they break the technical rules of vacation of catch up on paperwork to get it out of the way. Jesse nurses a glass of whiskey and shares a mouthful and a cigarette with Genji when they venture out under the moonlight.

Genji makes sure they go to bed on time, and it’s almost always a peaceful night. Intimacy appears in the form of tangled limbs and skin to skin and gentle kisses, lulling Jesse to sleep (and only once Jesse is asleep does Genji allow his systems to shut down in the closest thing to sleep he can achieve).

They never get more than ten days before they’re called back to work on some mission or other, and it’s often even shorter than that, but even a few days is all they need to trick themselves into believing this is possible. That they of all people (an orphan outlaw, a dishonoured yakuza) can have some semblance of a normal, happy life, away from the wars, away from the bloodshed, away from the darkest parts of the world.

It’s a dream that grounds them in the midst of battle, passing back jokes and calls to remember the smallest moments from their trips. They collect photos and Genji arranges them, digitally and physically, in a way so easily accessible to them both whenever they’re feeling less than human or alone. On the worst nights they steal a sofa in the Blackwatch rec room and cuddle in front of the television, wrapped in Jesse’s serape, wishing they were somewhere warmer.

Anywhere they can be together.


End file.
